


Muted Fragments

by TheNutcase



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNutcase/pseuds/TheNutcase
Summary: Maybe Josie had gone crazy, she thought to herself.  That might explain her weird attachment to the talisman.  Its origin was a mystery to Josie, but it meant the world to her, for some reason.  She couldn’t even begin to explain it.Josie worried that she might literally murder anyone who threatened to damage it, plain and simple.She couldn’t even begin to remember where it came from, but it was hers.  She could feel it.  And it was important, extremely important—she knew that, too.OrThe one where Josie’s identity is shattered when Hope jumps into Malivore.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 20
Kudos: 293





	Muted Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> Hello.
> 
> This is a bit different from what I've posted previously, it's a canon-compliant character study, except I rewrote a scene. Hope you like it.

_“Memory is identity… You are what you have done; what you have done is in your memory; what you remember defines who you are; when you forget your life you cease to be, even before your death.”_

~ Julian Barnes, Nothing to Be Frightened of

* * *

Josie Saltzman was ninety-nine percent certain that she was losing her mind.

It was the only logical explanation for what she had been experiencing lately. It was the only explanation for the fact that she was so impulsive and reckless and unbalanced all of a sudden; for the fact that she felt scattered and ungrounded _all of the time_.

Sometimes, she would suddenly become very aware of something violent or ill-advised that she’d done, and it would shock her.

She felt like a stranger to herself. She was now the type of girl who made other girls bleed if they looked at her boyfriend for too long; the type of girl who chanted spells even when she didn’t even know what they’d do; the type of girl who broke the arms of innocent quarterbacks.

She’d never, ever acted so recklessly before in her life. She’d never _felt_ so reckless, either.

She’d blame it entirely on the black magic, but some part of her told her that all of that was just a symptom.

It was as if Josie had been undermined. She couldn’t pinpoint when or where it had happened, but it was like she’d lost her identity at some point—abruptly, like flipping a light switch.

She was simply a different person, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why.

She got upset more easily. She was on edge. 

Jealous. 

Violent, even.

She simply didn’t know who she was anymore. It was as if the identity she had painstakingly built over the past decade had been chopped up into tiny pieces and jostled around.

She honestly didn’t like herself anymore, either. 

It was such a severe shift that it didn’t seem natural. At first, she'd suspected that it might be another monster—that she was possessed, or something.

But she never caught herself absentmindedly stealing artifacts or anything like that, so she eventually concluded that it must be something else.

When Josie encountered a problem, she usually coped by researching. 

So, she read, and then she read some more. Locke, then Reid, then Hume. All sorts of theories of personal identity. 

The more Josie read about identity, the more she suspected that she somehow no longer had one at all. 

Every philosopher Josie could find talked about identity being based on continuity, in one way or another. The continuous flux of awareness; the flow of _memory_ , especially. That’s how they said you could know if someone was the same person or not—based on what they could remember about themselves.

But Josie felt segmented, as if huge chunks of herself were missing. She was certain, in fact, that she was broken; discontinuous. She felt it in everything she did. 

If that wasn’t enough, it seemed that her memories were more like a reel of deleted scenes—choppy, each part disjointed from the rest. There was no narrative behind them; no clear way that they connected from one to the other. 

She could barely remember a single thing from when she was fourteen.

She felt like she had been spliced together; a thin caricature of a person; just a hollowed-out collection of the remnants left behind from something more whole.

She felt _empty_ , like some parts of herself were missing. Like there was more to her, once upon a time, that she no longer had access to. 

She felt fragile. 

She came up empty-handed whenever she asked herself, _“Who am I?”_

She was almost uncertain that she existed at all.

Ever since the start of the summer, Josie had turned into a bundle of unpredictable rage and unbearable _anxiety_. And it only seemed to be getting worse.

It was getting to the point where she was beginning to scare herself. 

Weirdly, the only thing that seemed to comfort her was a random necklace. She had to wear it every day just to feel grounded, hiding it beneath her shirt collar. 

It felt _personal_ somehow.

Alyssa caught sight of it once. Josie was already on edge for some reason—something Landon had said—and she pulled it out from under her shirt collar to fiddle with it while she was walking to class.

“That is the ugliest necklace I’ve ever seen,” Alyssa spat with a scowl as she passed by Josie in the hallway.

For the second time in her life, Josie impulsively lit someone on fire.

Luckily for her, Alyssa (for some reason) didn’t choose to retaliate. The incident seemed to give her the impression that Josie was dangerously crazy, so she simply kept her distance.

And maybe Alyssa was right. Maybe Josie had gone crazy, she thought to herself. 

That might explain her weird attachment to the talisman. Its origin was a mystery to Josie, but, for some reason, it meant the world to her. 

She couldn’t even begin to explain why. 

Josie worried that she might literally murder anyone who threatened to damage it, plain and simple.

She couldn’t remember where it came from, but it was hers. She could feel it. And it was _important_ , extremely important—she knew that, too.

There was some kind of magic in it. Josie could feel its potential radiating against her skin. 

She had no idea what it did, of course—and maybe it was a bit irresponsible of her to wear it anyway—but it made her feel safe.

In fact, she felt extremely anxious unless she could feel the weight of it resting just above her heart. She’d developed a habit of picking it up and turning it over in her hands whenever she got overwhelmed.

Which was often, lately. Josie had never before felt so unstable. She was afraid that she was headed toward something—some big explosion. 

She felt like she had a very loose grip on herself. It was only a matter of time before she would lose control.

* * *

Josie was way too interested in the new girl for her own good.

There was something about her—about _Hope_. Looking at her, Josie felt the same way she felt when she stared at a difficult math problem for way too long— _frustrated_. Like there was some answer to be found there that was just out of sight.

Josie couldn’t stop staring at her. _Studying_ her. 

Because something was _off_ about Hope. And Josie had the feeling that it was very important.

Josie had never felt so strongly about an absolute stranger before. She couldn’t figure out why every cell in her body kept screaming at her to pay very close attention to Hope. 

She wondered, at first, if it was an attraction (not that she would’ve admitted it to herself, if it were). 

But, even if there _was_ an attraction, beyond that there was _more_ —something strong and urgent that Josie really had no business feeling for a stranger. 

She felt that Hope was significant, somehow. She felt like Hope wasn’t a stranger at all. 

Josie felt like she _knew_ her.

But Josie couldn’t remember ever seeing her before—not even in passing. 

Josie suspected that this might just be another symptom of her impending insanity.

So, she pushed the feeling away and labelled it _"jealousy"_. It was easier that way.

And that strategy had been going well enough for her, pragmatically. When Josie saw Hope, she’d narrow her eyes and frown. Sometimes she’d scowl, or she’d make a snide remark. 

It successfully threw everyone off. Including Hope (or, well, Josie hoped so, anyway).

Still, deep down, Josie had the nagging feeling that it wasn’t just jealousy. 

Every time she saw Hope, she felt like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff. She felt apprehensive, like something big was about to come into focus at any second. 

Josie felt all kinds of things toward Hope that she refused to name—that she _couldn’t_ name, even if she tried. 

Even more so when she stumbled upon the girl crying on a park bench. 

Josie figured that she probably had no business feeling so concerned about a total stranger, but she couldn’t help it. She only let herself hesitate for a moment before making a beeline for the bench, as though she were operating purely on instinct.

Hope's eyes went wide with shock when Josie seemed to appear out of thin air. She tried to discreetly wipe away her tears when Josie sat beside her. Then, in an instant, her eyes became very guarded. Hope schooled her expression back into her usual inscrutable poker face. 

Josie thought that it was sort of impressive. If she hadn’t witnessed it with her own eyes moments before, Josie probably wouldn’t have guessed that the girl had been crying.

Josie felt a pang of empathy. She had a feeling that Hope must’ve had a lot of practice to perfect that.

Hope looked at her warily out of the corner of her eye. She seemed extremely tense. 

Josie couldn’t really blame her. The last time Hope saw Josie, the brunette had accused her of having a milkshake moment with her boyfriend.

But Josie wasn't here because she was jealous. 

Josie wasn’t really sure why she was here, actually. Something in her just refused to let her walk by while Hope was clearly upset.

Which was bizarre. Josie wasn’t even supposed to like her.

Josie cleared her throat awkwardly, deciding to stare at a tree off in the distance instead of meeting Hope’s gaze. “You okay?” she asked, her voice curt and formal, like she was reluctant to ask the question.

Hope raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You care?” she replied, her voice just slightly scratchy, to the point where it was barely noticeable. 

Josie glanced at her. Hope’s tone seemed less hostile and more curious, like she couldn’t figure Josie out.

Josie couldn’t figure Hope out, either. 

In truth, Josie thought that Hope was a very strange person. Even though Josie had been nothing but openly hostile toward her, Hope seemed unwilling to return the hostility. The strongest reaction Josie could manage to get out of her was a snarky remark. 

Otherwise, Hope just seemed to get weirdly angsty. She kept staring at Josie in a way that made Josie feel like she was missing something important.

That's the way she was staring at Josie now, anyway.

“I…,” Josie trailed off. “You looked sad,” she opted to say, effectively not answering Hope’s question.

Hope shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I… I’m fine,” she replied, her voice both dismissive and defensive.

Josie frowned, staring at the tree once again. Something about that statement bothered her. 

Hope wasn’t fine—absolutely not. Josie didn’t know how, but she just _knew_ it.

Something was wrong.

Everything was wrong, actually. Nothing was as it should be. Josie felt it now, more prominently than ever before. 

Josie knew that she was overlooking something—something that should be obvious. But it _wasn’t_ obvious. There was something so clearly there in the air between them, but it was _blocked._

It was simply imperceptible, at least to Josie.

Josie felt her throat tightening. She was beginning to panic now, for no apparent reason—and that’s the furthest thing from what she wanted to do. She didn’t come over here intending to have a panic attack that would make the girl she had a sort-of-rivalry with think she was crazy.

“I like your necklace,” Hope blurted out suddenly, forcing Josie out of her thoughts. “Where’d you get it?”

Josie glanced down, almost surprised to find herself fiddling with the talisman. She glanced back up at Hope curiously. 

Hope wasn’t looking at Josie, even though she’d just asked her a very random question. Her gaze was fixated on the same tree that Josie had been staring at earlier. 

Hope seemed even more tense than before for some reason, gripping the seat of the bench so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Otherwise, she was unreadable.

Josie frowned, staring back down at the talisman for a long pause. Why did Hope even care where she got it? Was she just trying to change the subject? “Um, I don’t know. I can’t remember,” Josie answered absentmindedly, unable to keep all of the frustration out of her voice. “But I feel like I should,” she muttered to herself under her breath, as an afterthought.

Josie blushed when she realized that she’d said that last part out loud. 

Once again, she worried that Hope might think she was crazy. 

When Josie looked back up again, Hope was staring directly at the talisman. 

And Hope looked absolutely miserable, her expression an odd mix of grief and disappointment.

Josie’s brow furrowed with confusion. She briefly wondered if she’d said something wrong.

Hope seemed to snap out of it after a moment, looking away from the talisman and abruptly standing up. “I, uh, h-have to go,” she sputtered out gracelessly, already turning to walk away. “Sorry.”

Josie frowned as she watched Hope walk away, still absentmindedly brushing a fingertip over the etching of an anchor.

* * *

Landon left without a goodbye, except for the one he wrote in his letter.

Josie didn’t even know if it meant that he’d broken up with her. She figured that it did, for all intents and purposes. He could hardly expect her to wait around indefinitely, wondering if he’d ever come back.

She decided that she wasn’t going to rely on him to give her closure. It was a breakup, in her mind. She’d have made it clear to him, if he’d had the decency to speak to her in person or the courage to let her respond to him.

She found herself strangely indifferent about the breakup—relieved, even. 

The moment she remembered Hope, Josie had accepted that Landon was going to break up with her. She’d accepted it, only resentful of the uncertain limbo he left her in; of having to wait around for him to make a choice. 

She knew what choice he’d make. Who wouldn’t choose Hope?

Josie was more worried about the possibility that he'd go straight back to Hope than the fact that he’d break up with her. 

She didn’t know if she could handle seeing Hope with him so soon. (Weirdly, she was more bothered by the idea of Hope with him than she was bothered by the idea of him with Hope.)

Josie and Hope read his letter together. Josie couldn’t help but notice that Hope looked hurt and disappointed, but unsurprised.

Josie felt a flash of irritation toward Landon, because he'd made Hope feel that way. 

Didn’t he know how much Hope cared for him? How could he just up and leave with absolutely no warning? 

Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t have known that Hope would be with Josie when Josie received his letter. For all he knew, Hope would never see his goodbye.

But Hope did happen to be there. They read the letter together moments after Hope put her fate in Josie’s hands (“ _I won’t come back if my being here brings you any more pain_ ”).

Josie almost laughed at the absurdity of it. She would’ve, if she weren’t worried that Hope would take it the wrong way. 

It was as if Hope had no idea how ruined Josie had been in her absence.

Josie hated how hurt Hope looked when she flipped the burn book closed. 

She hated it even more that Hope appeared to be used to feeling that way. 

Unable to stomach the pain on Hope's face, Josie reached out and gently took the tribrid’s hand. “Landon or no Landon, you belong here,” she stated, her voice firm and reassuring as she stared into Hope’s eyes. “I want you to stay.”

Hope had the audacity to look relieved, as if she’d truly thought that there might be a possibility that Josie would say otherwise. As if she really, truly had no idea that her absence had splintered Josie into pieces; that Josie would’ve been just as doomed as Hope if she never got her memories back.

It didn’t sit well with Josie. Not at all. “Hope, I would _never_ tell you to leave, not even if I was furious with you,” she insisted vehemently, desperate to get her point across. “And I’m _not_ furious with you.”

Hope’s lower lip trembled slightly. She looked uncertain and vulnerable—very much unlike herself. “You’re not?” she asked quietly.

“No,” Josie replied immediately, shaking her head as though just the thought of it was ridiculous. “Of course not.”

Hope swallowed thickly, biting her lip and glancing away before she spoke again. “But you’ve been avoiding me,” she murmured hesitantly, uncertain if she should bring up the subject at all.

Josie frowned, staring intently at Hope even though the tribrid refused to meet her eye. “Yes, I have,” she replied, her voice thick with guilt. “But it’s not because I’m mad at you.”

Hope looked up at this, confused. “Then why are you avoiding me?”

Josie bit her lip, her gaze faltering as she felt a wave of nerves. “Because. I’m confused,” she admitted quietly.

Hope’s brow furrowed. “Confused?” she echoed, sounding confused herself. “About what?”

Josie hesitated for a beat, and then she sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “Hope, the moment I remembered you…,” she trailed off, reluctant to continue. She stared down at their hands, which were still intertwined. 

Josie decided to throw caution to the wind and continued, her voice just above a whisper. “Without you, it's like I was shattered to pieces, the fractures so deep that I didn’t even realize they were there. But the moment I remembered you, it's like I was stitched back together again.”

Josie’s speech trailed off into a long, heavy silence. Hope stared at her, her lips slightly parted with confusion. She cleared her throat and blinked as an attempt to snap herself out of it. “I…,” she started, trailing off uncertainly. “I don’t understand.”

Josie frowned, frustrated by her inability to capture what she was feeling in words. “I don’t understand it, either,” she blurted out impatiently, meeting Hope's eye again. “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s freaking me out. I don’t know what it means. I had no idea you were such a huge part of my life… such a huge part of _who I am_ ,” she admitted, something urgent and desperate in her voice. “I was a different person without you.”

Hope seemed to be completely shocked by what she was hearing, her eyes almost comically wide. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words came out of it.

Josie decided to keep on talking, because it didn't seem like Hope would figure out what to say anytime soon. “And I don’t like who I was,” she continued carefully, filling the silence mostly as an attempt to counter her mounting anxiety. “I-I was jealous, and reckless, and _angry_ —and, I… I’m not saying that I was never any of those things before,” she rambled on with a pout. “But without you in my life, I was so much _worse_. A-and I don’t even know when it happened, because we barely talked up until a year or so ago, but... somewhere along the way, you became s-so integral to who I am—”

Hope cleared her throat to cut Josie off, now looking a bit pale and panicky. “Jo—"

“And I’ve been thinking about it,” Josie interrupted, charging forward in her speech before she could lose her nerve. “And I think it has to have something to do w-with the fact that I’ve always had a bad habit of thinking way too much about you, a-and the fact that I’ve never been able to pay attention to anything else whenever you walk into a room, and the way that I’ve always admired you so much for being so strong and brave and selfless, and th-the way that whenever I’m feeling tempted to do something selfish and reckless I always ask myself _what would Hope do_ ,” she rambled, averting eye contact when she felt a heavy blush rising to her cheeks because of what she was admitting. “When you jumped into Malivore, all of that was just _gone_. It all disappeared with you, every memory I had of you—every memory of just _thinking_ about you. And I was reduced to what was left behind; a shell of myself.”

Hope swallowed thickly, her breathing becoming erratic. She only attempted to speak again because Josie had slowed down enough to pause for a few seconds between her sentences. “ _Josie_ —"

But Josie was unable to stop talking. She simply didn’t feel like she was finished. “You’ve played such a huge role in shaping who I am, even when you barely said a word to me,” she murmured, her breathing a bit shallow and panicky by this point. “I wouldn’t be who I am without you—not even close. I _wasn’t_ myself, Hope. I was... I was broken. A-and I was _stupid_ and _reckless_ , and I made mistakes that are going to have consequences. But I’m looking back on those choices now, and I can’t even figure out why I made them. Because now that I remember you, I’m _different_. You’ve made me a better person without even trying, all this time. And what I turned into without you in my life freaks me out. I _never_ want to be that person—I... I can’t lose you again. I—”

Hope cut her off, surging forward with all the force of a firework and knocking Josie off balance with a desperate kiss. 

Josie froze in shock, her breath hitching sharply in her throat. Hope smoothly maneuvered Josie onto her back and hovered above her, the kiss packed with such a frantic kind of passion that Josie worried her heart might explode at any moment.

This was actually happening, Josie realized. Hope was kissing her.

When her disbelief passed, Josie was overwhelmed by an unparalleled euphoria. Her eyelids drooped closed and she kissed back with just as much enthusiasm, draping her arms around Hope's neck to pull her closer.

Hope let out a low moan against Josie's lips. Josie answered it with a contented sigh. Josie's reciprocation seemed to calm Hope, the kiss gradually slowing to a more languid pace while all of the tension in Hope's body deflated. Hope allowed herself to rest more of her weight on Josie, their bodies pressing closer together.

They kissed for what felt like a lifetime, the pace slowing over time until it was borderline lazy.

Hope eventually pulled back, her eyelids fluttering open. She stared down at Josie with reverence, as though she were truly seeing her for the first time. 

Josie could only stare back, her chest heaving with heavy breaths while she tried to recover. After a pause, Josie felt an uncontrollable smile start to spread over her face, her cheeks hurting when she tried and failed to fight back against it. 

Hope grinned back at her, her eyes sparkling with warmth. She reached out all of a sudden, gently picking up the talisman from where it had bunched up around Josie's neck. “The talisman really works, huh?” she murmured, her voice husky and teasing.

Josie blinked, taking a moment to process what Hope had just said. She let out a disbelieving, breathless laugh, feeling on top of the world. “Shut up,” she muttered in reply, lightly rolling her eyes before she pulled Hope into another kiss by the back of the neck.

Josie reveled in all of her emotions, which were a stark contrast to the angst and anxiety she'd been contending with for what now seemed like forever. 

Euphoria. Excitement, sure. Love, she was certain (she would have to tell Hope all about that one later).

But mostly relief. Relief that her feelings were reciprocated. Relief that she was not, in fact, out of her mind. Relief that she was back to herself again, and that the things in her life were falling back into place, where they should be—that _Hope_ was right back where she should be.

She knew that she would soon have to face consequences for the mistakes she'd made when she wasn't in her right mind. But she also knew that Hope would be there to face them with her. Somehow, that made it all seem less scary. It made Josie think that forgiving herself might not be so impossible after all—not if Hope could forgive her so easily.

She felt like she could face anything, now that she had Hope again.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment to let me know if you think this is better or worse than the speeches the writers give to Landon ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> constructive criticism welcome


End file.
